


Playin' Games

by theotherdesanta



Series: Revelations And New Habits [3]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Dads at it again, Disaster husbando's, Factory meetup, Fluff, Fluffy as you can get, Franklin ruins everything, Hot Fluff, M/M, Michael is confusing as fuk, Trash dads, Trevor is a horn dog, Trikey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8168872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherdesanta/pseuds/theotherdesanta
Summary: Another meetup where Michael De Santa and Trevor Philips are stuck waiting for their friend to show up so they can discuss their latest crime spree. 
Ironically, violence is the last thing on Michael's mind as they stand alone together on the factory floor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Where do I begin--Well, I was originally working on another Drag!Michael fic and I got one page done before this image threw itself at me and demanded to be written. 
> 
> Apologies to my life-coach who was super excited for Drag!Michael to make a comeback only for me to wind up writing trash about Trash dads instead. 
> 
> This might not come as a surprise but I'm currently in the throes of deep, unrelenting depression meaning my head is sort of a mess right now and things are being made extremely difficult so I'm just taking time to relax and rest up for Halloween/Christmas. 
> 
> Yes that means stories are going to be kinda erratic because I have no idea when I'm going to have the energy to write anything or follow up on my multi-chapter pieces, it sucks, believe me, this is why I hate taking breaks because when I get bad it always takes so long to bounce back, especially if I've had a period where I've done a lot of things because for some reason that just makes it worse, the energy spikes somehow fuelling my depression to the point I go from being on my feet all day to on the floor like a slug for weeks on end.
> 
> I'm sorry. I hope this makes up for the wait on my other stories and for the length of time it's going to take for me to get back to them. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has supported me and is currently supporting me, it means the world to me, especially in times like these. 
> 
> Once things are good again I will be back to a regular time-frame, one as consistent as it can be, and be posting fics/chapters weekly/bi-weekly. 
> 
> Aside from that I just wanna say I love you guys and hope you're all okay. 
> 
> Piece, L.M out!

_“He's gonna kill you”_

A disembodied voice sang merrily, the gust of warm air causing the space below his ear to embrace a pinkish hue that snaked upward and curved around the appendage until those within a foot's distance were aware of the sudden change to his pallor. 

To the stick-up man's relief, the abandoned carpet factory's storage area they currently inhabited was dimly lit by a rickety, broken fan and the source hung some metres away atop the crumbling ceiling the two were both equally nervous in regards to being under. 

The tension manifesting between them was almost palpable, it consumed the dilapidated room and gnawed at the fraying strands which struggled to hold together the barrier continuing to have the startlingly calm meth-head remain vigilantly on his toes and halted the incessant urge to lunge at his opponent and tear the man apart piece by piece because he himself did not want to be the one caught off guard. 

Trevor's narcotic enhanced gaze fell upon the second males twitching foot, just the notion that he wished to move even a damn inch had him feeling a strong unease tie impossibly tight knots in the depth of his stomach. 

_“Don't let that prick get the drop on you...remember what happened last time?”_

A cautious wave of adrenalin shot through both criminals systems as the taller one slid a few inches to his right, in turn, his partner did the same, creating a circular pattern to their movements. 

Michael stood across the floor, legs parted as if he were taking a fighting stance, hands dangled firm at either side, fingers still yet prepared to reach for the gun tucked under his belt. 

His running buddy's stature oozed military, the way he kept his back straight, boots connected at the ankles, arms pressed into his upper torso however with enough freedom to throw a swing with incredible speed and ease should the opportunity have called for Trevor to do it. 

The other's crazed, bewildered stare had Michael's trigger finger spasming of its own accord, not because his internal organs were doing summersaults, but because he knew it was telling him to stay alert to, no matter what, pull the trigger if Trevor dared make even one false move in his direction. 

The realisation brought on a chill, the sort that he knew all too well, the same chill Michael had run through his bones on that snowy morning he threw his life away to the federal government, to Dave Norton and the bureau, to be the white collared family oriented dipshit everybody and their mother knew he wasn't. 

_“Don't be such a chicken, Mikey. Take 'um out. Else you'll be the corpse rottin' at the bottom of a wine fuckin' barrel!”_

This time, the older man forced himself to take a much wider step, coming closer on Trevor's left only to watch him twirl on his heel and march backward, eye locked on Michael as the two of them played goose with each other. 

Why in gods name had Franklin asked to meet them there? 

Was it another set-up? 

Was he acting on behalf of a rival crew or the fucking government? 

Or did the boy just call them there knowing leaving them there in the same dark, dank room as each other would lead to mindless bloodshed without the use of a third gun? 

Michael didn't want to find out. 

If he was completely truthful with himself: To die to a blind betrayal would've been a cleaner way to go than to see a bullet flying straight for him, and his protege behind the damn trigger. 

“You ain't lookin' too hot, Porkchop. Feds got your tongue?” Trevor mocked cruelly, stopping mere inches from the broken ceiling fans distorted light from which Michael now stood directly under. 

“Fuck you” His partner bit back, seething hatred pouring into his tone. 

“Oh-ho-ho-ho, don't you fuckin' wish you could, Fatty” He drawled sleazily, grinning sickly. 

“Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that. Might help you sleep after jerkin' off to my ass for ten seconds. Mr. Three Pump Chump” Michael cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up for what was about to go down. 

The way Trevor snapped his head to the side was visually horrifying, one swift turn and a deafening crack of his joints as he wrenched it back and stomped the short beeline until he was squaring the man up, glaring down into his eyes with such a raw intensity it bore a hole into Michael's very core and bounced back to knock his friend between the eyes. 

“Wanna run that by me again, Sugar. Didn't quite catch it” He loomed over the older criminal, a long shadow blocking the light from hitting Michael's face as he stood below him, ocean blue eyes almost colorless in the pitch blackness of Trevor's frame. 

“You heard me just fine...Chump” Michael accentuated the last word with an astounding amount of smugness to his voice. 

If there was one thing he'd wanna leave this earth doing, it'd be giving Trevor as good as the man gave in terms to his verbal abuse. 

Trevor puffed out his chest and heaved a number of searing breaths through his nasal passages, watching the cool air surrounding them transform his exhales into smoke that wisped around Michael's head. 

That is when he saw it. 

He shuffled away a little to let the ceiling fan capture the subtle shade of red but once the light touched down there was no disguising it. 

Amidst the arguing, the verbal onslaught of taunts and confidence shattering remarks, Trevor finally noticed the unsightly patch of irritated skin under his friend's earlobe, the sheet of crimson that blanketed his neck and ear with small beads of sweat. 

He chose to ignore it. 

Michael, however, could not. 

“Jerkin' off is the only thing you got to look forward to, Cupcake” T tried, prodding a dirty finger into his partner's chest.

Another blush crept along his collarbone as Michael registered the sharp jab to the spot just below, being this up close and person with Trevor was a danger in itself, more than it would've been if they simply loathed each other, being in his friends gravitational pull had Michael constantly monitoring his own behaviour for quirks, any rips in his narcissistically perfect facade that could've given away whatever small, positive emotions he had in relation to the junkie. 

Twenty-five years of keeping those feelings at bay...why did now seem a rational opportunity to let them free? 

He mentally gestured to the whisps of breath floating up to entwine themselves into his hair, perhaps they were the cause. 

Michael wanted not to focus on his best friends snarling lips, but instead his yellowing, broken teeth, anything to turn him off the desire to press his mouth against Trevor's and slide his tongue over them, taste whatever drug he'd been addicted to that week, horrible super food he'd eaten for lunch, hitchhiker Trevor may have sucked off before murdering in a high, sexuality motivated stupor. 

He wanted to taste all of it, all of him. 

On some level, he prayed Franklin would show up and break them apart, stop him committing the worst atrocity of his life, but he also wanted the boy to forget about their meetup and leave Mike and Trevor alone in the broken factory to let out their inner frustrations on each other. 

In fact...Letting out his frustration seemed a good plan right about now. 

“Run outta bullshit, Mikey--” 

Narrowing his eyes and plastering a grimace across his face, Michael swung a hand around the back of Trevor's head where he locked chubby fingers onto the base of his skull and pulled him down onto his mouth. 

Michael grunted from the pain of having their teeth rattle against each other, but he worked through the stinging sensation to messily crush his lips into Trevors, cocking his head to get a better angle at which to capture his mouth. 

He'd thrown caution to the wind and in return Michael had a rapidly beating heart to show for it, the organ throwing itself around his chest and into his ribcage all at once in a panicked frenzy. 

Trevor went stock still at the intrusion upon his mouth, silently deciphering if what Michael was doing was some new tactic at show dominance or if he was actually doing what the junkie assumed he was. 

They locked eyes, Michael's gaze was dewy and shun with a vibrancy of clear blue he'd never witnessed before, it threatened to douse the towering inferno within his own amber orbs at the two stared into their partner's faces. 

Automatically Trevor's jaw began to move, his head dipped and rose, slurping up the others lips and sucking on them momentarily until releasing them, just to repeat the action. 

The balls he'd made with his fists unclenched and Trevor raised both arms to his running buddies torso, putting one on his shoulder and the other around Michael's waist. 

He fought a smile as his pal winced into Trevor's touch, swallowing back a gulp that opened up the chance for the taller thief to force his tongue into Michael's mouth. 

Michael gagged, yanking back and slapping a hand over his lips to stop Trevor from doing it again. 

He instantly regretted wondering about the taste of his friend, being bombarded with the overwhelming flavor of cigar smoke, weed, and some undescribable burnt liquid Michael assumed was a homebrewed tea. 

Everything was too much for him and so he attempted to pull a hasty retreat. 

But Trevor kept him in place, grinning just as he had previously, the arm he had on Michael's hip now holding him in a vice, their crotches pressed too close for comfort and Michael knew he'd put himself in a position where he would not be coming out on top. 

“What's with all the mixed messages, Mikey?” T chuckled the question darkly, his free hand reaching into the back of Michael's suit pants to retrieve the pistol he'd stored there in case of an emergency. 

By now, the fatter criminal had a hand on T's shoulder, reclining as far away from him as he could still in their close proximity. 

His eyes widened, expression falling as Trevor waved the gun triumphantly, sticking his tongue out playfully as if they were having a round of keep away. 

“I mean, it just ain't somethin' you do if you want a healthy relationship” Michael had no idea how his friend remained strong enough to hold him still, and yet whirl the gun so freely he was near to dropping the damn thing and shooting one of them in the foot. 

“But” Trevor continued. “That ain't what you're lookin' for, is it. No. You're lookin' for somethin' with a little spice” 

Michael felt himself shiver when he saw Trevor point the barrel directly at him, cocking back the small mechanism on the top of the weapon. 

“Little...danger” He gulped, hard, feeling the heat pulse off Trevor like a fucking furnace. “Ain't nice to confuse people, Sugar” 

On that, Trevor lobbed the gun across the room, unnervingly he didn't react when the pistol fired a shot into a stack of crates some feet ahead. 

Michael all but jumped out of his skin, seeing the bullet whizz passed and blow apart one of the smaller crates, small wooden shards flying into the air like confetti. 

Once his erratic heartbeat returned to its usual pace, Michael slowly brought his head to face Trevor again, hand still shielding quivering mouth. 

“I'mma wind up with one'a them anxiety complexes the way you treat me, Mikey” T spoke in a deep, drawn out down that could melt fucking butter. “Specially if you keep givin' me the run around like you seem to enjoy doin'” 

If he wasn't hard before, Michael sure was now, the fear of having a bullet lodged somewhere inside his person and Trevor taking advantage of him in the dull light of the factory had blood steadily moving south, and there was no doubt in high fuckin' heaven that Trevor knew it, hell they were joined at the lower torso, he'd have to be numb not to feel something down there. 

Though mildly shaken, he managed a retort. 

“Don't act like you ain't been havin' fun, Trev” There was a breathlessness to Michael's voice as he spoke. “We been at this too long for you to not be getting' some kinda kick outta this” 

He wanted to say something else but the hand on his mouth had been moved outta the way and Trevor's face put right in its spot, the words were stolen right out of Michael's throat as Trevor's lips absorbed whatever sound was left to come. 

Once again Trevor pushed his tongue between his friend's lips and penetrated the moist heat that sent blissful volts of electricity along his spine. 

He went slower, easing Michael into it by lapping at his lower lip, swiping lines across the swollen flesh and nipping until a soft moan escaped the shorter con artist.

Trevor then gave one long sweep over his whitened teeth, inhaling the combination of whiskey and peppermint, to his pleasure the foul tobacco odor was gone, Michael had gone through with his plan to stop smoking and stuck to it, leaving only a strong alcoholic musk scented with expensive cologne and sandalwood aftershave. 

He took one deep breath and his eyes fluttered closed, Trevor intensified the kiss beyond measure and unconsciously the hand that was fondling Mike's pocket was now cupping his ass, the gun no longer in the way of his round and somewhat perfect cheeks. 

“You're a pig” Michael grunted into his partner's face, wriggling frantically to get some friction on his straining dick. 

“Comin' from you, Fatty. I'll take that as a compliment” T responded, twisting his head in retaliation to Michael latching a hand in his hair and the other roughly fisting his shirt sleeve, face buried into the nape of the mans neck as he went about biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there. 

“Yeah, I know somethin' you'll take as a fucking compli---” The sound of a door creaking open in the distance broke their physical union. 

Both men paused, stuck in their current disheveled position as a voice called out amongst the out of date machinery. 

“Ey! I'm here. You two killed each other yet?” Franklin's shadow could be seen moving along the walls, traveling through the factory to their part of the building. 

“Oh fuck” Michael said flatly, Trevor's hand still on his ass. 

“Well, we're boned” T added. 

 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Btw please comment and leave a kudos if you liked this and for any tips on how to better the writing in future pieces.


End file.
